Redefining the Gyre
by The Readers Muse
Summary: "You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see that this wasn't going to end well."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** This is my fill response to a prompt posted on LJ at the TWD_Kink Meme community: _"__Daryl/Glenn: Scars: Glenn has a scar that he hides from most of the group; the only one he has let see it is Daryl because Daryl knows when to ask and when not too. - Somehow the group sees the scar and Rick keeps asking about it won't let it drop. So finally Daryl is all like "It ain't a geek bite and it ain't fresh so it's none of yer business!" Later Glenn opens up to Daryl about it. It could be from past abuse from his father (which they bond over) or from when Atlanta was napalmed. _-*****Rated for: adult language, adult situations, discussions of scars, a few off color allusions to race (nothing harmful meant fyi. Just sticking with the dialog they have been alluding to in the show between Daryl and Glenn), pre-slash leanings, and manly adorableness.

**Authors Note #2:** Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism.

**Redefining the Gyre**

You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see that this wasn't going to end well. - He hadn't caught it from the beginning. Too busy helping Carol re-arrange the grating around the fire pit to realize that the amicable conversation ebbing and flowing around the circle of chairs was really anything but. - Because within a matter of seconds everything had gone quiet. _Dead_ quiet. With all conversation brought to a screeching halt as Rick's voice sounded out just a few decibels too loud, making the tail end of phrases like "show me" and "nothing to hide" air out far too loud in the sudden absence of noise.

Echoing mockingly around the circle as every head whipped up, alert and worried. On point before the echoes had even had a chance to lessen. Staring at the two men unabashedly as at least four sets of hands inched towards their gun holsters. - _...Fucking perfect._

The whole thing made his hackles rise, prickling the hairs on the back of his neck the longer the moment stretched. Until the air was as strained as a freshly pulled trip wire. _Tense and just itching to break_. – …And yet, it was more then that. Different and dark in a way he hadn't sensed for a long time. This wasn't just a normal disagreement or partially subdued fight.

_It was worse._

Because the kid wasn't meeting Rick's gaze and his back had gone arrow straight, archin' back in his chair like he was trying his best to burst right through it. Looking more like a half feral tom cat that was being slowly backed into a corner the longer the man kept on pressing.

He straightened from his place beside Carol, catching her skittish, sideways look at the two of them before he placed the ghost of a light fingered press across her delicate, bird-like shoulder. Reassuring her without words as he slipped from her side and moved closer to where the kid seemed to be getting the tenth degree.

He only had to hear a few more words before he realized what the whole argument was actually about. And he couldn't help but scowl, directing his glare towards the older man as Grimes continued talking. Voice low, but insistent. _...Figures. _Because just like every half assed dimwit that had been on the government's payroll before the whole world had gone to shit, Officer Friendly had apparently decided that he had license to go poking and prodding into things that didn't concern him.

– Only this time kid wasn't talkin' and it was clear that Rick wasn't going let this one go easily.

He had to admit that it was a mean looking sonofabitch. Rough ridged and puckered into ropey little knots of scar tissue the longer it stretched. Lancing across the back of the kid's thigh in a mess of pink virgin flesh and puffed up tissue. – The kid had gotten himself good, whatever he'd done. It had already gone and scarred up all right and proper. Standing out like some sort of perverse, fucked up beacon across the span of the kid's milky white thigh. But even there the kid had been lucky, snagging more meat then anything else. – Hell, a few inches to the right and it would'a been a whole different ball game.

_Musta' done some freaky ninja shit to pull that one off_.

'Course he'd seen it before, he had eyes. But the others still didn't know how to_ look_ and _see _at the same time. …_City folk_. It'd probably be tragic if it wasn't so god damn pathetic. – But even then he hadn't meant to see it, just happened to pass by the kid's tent when he'd been in the middle of pulling on a pair of jeans back in the Quarry camp. Long before Rick, Atlanta, and Merle.

After all, it was hard to miss. It stood out on the kid like a sore thumb. - Clashing rather magnificently with China's smooth, ivory skin. All baby soft and ridiculously unmarred. He shook his head in frustration at the mere memory. -…For fucks sakes the kid was practically _pretty. _– He'd had no idea a guy could even_ look_ like that.

_Talk about a mind fuck._

At the time he hadn't given it more then a passing glance. It had been a nasty looking thing, even back then. Mean and angry looking just like a proper scar should. Puffed up and ropey in a way only torn up skin and a crappy stitching job can rightly create. _.. - He should know after all._

But other then that he hadn't given it much thought. Personally he thought it gave the kid some character. But given the nature of his own collection he figured he probably didn't have license to judge. He bore his own scars like some people did medals. Quietly, but unshrinkingly... - Like lessons taught and lessons learned. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less.

But at the end of the day he supposed that wasn't really the reason why he found himself moving forward. Feeling the acidic bite of raw anger surging up in his throat the longer Rick kept pushing. – Because the point was that anyone and their _doting maiden aunt_ could see that the kid didn't want to talk about it. …That much was as clear as day.

And apparently _Captain America _couldn't see the god damned _forest_ for the_ trees _because he just kept on pressing. Sticking his nose where it didn't belong in the first place. Blundering around like a bare assed idiot lost in the dark. Careless, stupid, and mindless of the consequences as the kid visibly closed off. – Because right about now he didn't give a _flying shit_ about Sheriff 'Do-Gooder' and his high and mighty good intentions. It didn't take much to see that not only did the kid _not_ want to talk about it, but he probably had _good _reason_ not_ to want to talk about it as well.

_For christ sakes, end of the world or not, a man still needed his god damned pride!_

The whole thing only served to rub him the wrong way. Probably because in a weird, and likely very_ twisted_ way, he knew he could relate. God knows he had about a dozen or so he didn't want people prying about. That shit was personal. Every scar had a story. Standing out as a reason for some long thought out action, or the result of a foolish one. Hell, in his case most of his had more in common with that of nightmares then some "feel good" monstrosity lurking under fanciful colors and over commercialized labels. – There was no way to sugar coat it. Life hadn't been kind to him, and his body had born the brunt of that reality. But at the same time, hell if he regretted even a _single _moment of it.

_After all, who could regret the life that had shaped you? – Ain't natural to wish for anything different in his opinion._

– Besides he sure as hell didn't need _their_ sanctimonious asses telling him that it was fucking _"share time."_ ..Like they even had the _right _to know in the first place?

So perhaps that's why he found himself suddenly pressed between the two of them, forcing Rick to back off by pure presence alone. Nudging him back with the firm jut of his shoulder until Glenn had enough room to collect himself. Unable to stand the way the kid had gone quiet. Plush pink lips thin around the edges as the others stared, drawn closer by the ruckus as Rick tried to skirt around him. – Restless and eager, like a wild dog that had sensed blood on the wind.

"It ain't a bite and it ain't fresh, so the way I see it, it ain't _none_ of 'yer business." He spat. Breaking the silence with a near growl as his voice echoed out the close space. Slicing right through all the bullshit, until he'd hit the heart of the matter right on its god damned head.

He fixed the older man with an impassive glare. Holding his gaze just a second too long before the Sheriff finally backed off, nodding towards the both of them as he readjusted his holster. Looking strangely chastised as the toe of his boot dug into the half trampled grass. - Blinking owlishly into the noon glare as Grimes' gaze flicked from him to the kid, then back again. Looking at the both of them like he'd never seen anything quite like them before.

But before he could even begin figure _that_ one out, the kid was already making a less then graceful exit. Managing to avoid both Lori and the old man as they half rose from their seats. Jack-rabbiting towards the trail that led down towards the sheltered river bank they'd been using to wash up and do laundry since they'd made camp here in close to two weeks after abandoning the Green farm. - Too road weary and low on supplies to justify pushing the vehicles any further.

He waited a while before following. Ignoring the stares and half muffled murmuring as the others gossiped. Pointedly not watching as the kid's footsteps faded from his hearing. He didn't need a hunter's eye to know where the kid had gone. – He stayed long enough to eat two helpings of the Rice-a-roni and powdered egg mix Carol had managed to fix. Not missing the tiny smile she gave him as he held up his plate for seconds. Inwardly raising a brow when he noticed that his helping was at least two times larger then Shane's.

_Feisty little bird._

He found the kid exactly where he'd expected. Perched atop the massive downed trunk that spanned the length of the river bed. Hanging just above the water like some sort of trapeze that led from one side of the bank to the other. He sat down without comment. Taking in the kid's hunched profile for a moment before he unsheathed his buck knife, dug out his steel block and set about sharpening its edges. Skilfully sliding the blade down the length in a series of firm, even strokes. Content, at least for the moment, to let the silence breathe.

Instead they simply sat there, watching the fast running current race on by. Burbling and sloshing as microscopic whirlpools spiraled out of control only inches away from their swinging feet. Ebbing and swelling as kamikaze eddies dashed themselves across flat planed pebbles and sharp edged rocks. Like birds caught within a widening gyre. Helpless and lost the center of it's ever widening pull.

The silence felt keen. Visceral and over saturated in lue of the kid's usual, inane chatter. Glenn was always babblin' on about_ something_. Didn't matter what it was, he always seemed to have some god damned opinion on the matter. In fact in the first few months he'd been tempted to just gag the little chink, anything for a few seconds of _blissful _peace and quiet. – Certainly never thought he'd miss it at any rate.

But he did. Because_ this_ silence was awkward. It was raw edged, tense, and spluttering with the ghosts of half started syllables and frustrated sighs. It reminded him of the engine on Pa's old T-bird. The old clunker he'd gone and tinkered with in the backyard shed whenever he and Mama were quarreling. Cussin' himself hoarse into its ornery metal guts as he wrestled with its rust riddled frame until all the anger and frustration had seeped out from his pores in the form of a good old fashioned sweat. - Exorcizing his demons through the harsh tang of salt and the angry burn of abused muscles.

– It had been one of the only _useful_ things the old booze hound had ever taught him.

He tested the edge of his blade with a satisfied grunt, trying to cover up his growing frustration as he eventually sheathed it. Reveling in the cool steel and that unique butter soft slide as the worn leather sheath welcomed it back. His frown only deepening when the kid didn't even react.

And after a long moment he took a leaf out of the kid's book and focused his gaze on their surroundings. Idly watching the way a thin layer of cresting foam was lapping at the edges of the nearest whirl pool. Skimming across the surface like a sweet honey glaze. - Sugar sweet and fluffed into delicate tufts of frothy white grit and barely trapped air.

_...For fucks sakes!_

He wrinkled his nose. Staring the kid down from out of the corner of his eye as he held back a sigh. Annoyed in spite of himself that the kid was making him work for it right from the get go. Because for once, it was going to be _him_ that was going to have to break the silence…

_Moody little shit._

**A/N:** - Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! Hopefully chapter two will be up shortly!

"_One man scorned and covered with scars still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars; and the world will be better for this.__" - __Miguel de Cervantes_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own AMC's The Walking Dead or any of its characters. Wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:** See original chapter for a complete disclaimer, explanation, and warnings. - Rated for: adult language, adult situations, discussions of scars, pre-slash leanings, and manly adorableness.

**Authors Note #2:** Please read and review. I am excited to see what you all think. I am open to comments, advice, and constructive criticism.

**Redefining the Gyre**

_**Chapter Two**_

"Look kid, I don't need to know. And I sure as hell won't press 'ya. - Either way it ain't nobodies business but your own. Don't let anyone tell 'ya any different." He finally offered. Flicking a piece of bark off the moss covered side as he got comfortable. Deliberately not looking at him as the kid shifted beside him. Spine straight edged and defensive, like he was just _waiting_ for the other shoe to drop.

_Christ. How long had Grimes' been working on him anyway?  
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The kid sat silent for a time, as if considering his words. And for a long moment he thought the kid was going to call his bluff. But like he'd suspected all along, with all the subtly of water breaking from a failing damn, the kid slowly started to talk. It was gradual at first, the words halting and unsure. - But soon enough the man's tongue was all but tripping over itself as he spilled it all. A veritable deluge of words, like vomit from the soul.

...As if once started, the words simply couldn't be stopped.

"There was this guy, back in Atlanta. Just a guy. Normal. _Ordinary_. Probably around the same age as you..." Glenn started, voice halting, but gaining confidence as a pale hand ghosted down the length of his side. The action almost unconscious in nature as the kid's fingers rubbed thoughtlessly into the worn fabric of his jeans, following the hard ridged line of the scar from start to finish. - To anyone else, in any other situation the action might have even looked enticing. - Luxurious, tactile, and far too close to his johns to be anything _other_ then deliberate_._

_..But he knew better._

"He saved my ass and I don't even remember _his name_." The kid nearly hissed, voice hinging on shrill as he snorted in self disgust. Hand abruptly clenching atop his thigh as his throat worked. Clearly struggling with himself as he cleared his throat almost convulsively.

For his part he just blinked; face impassive as he let the kid talk. Already having an idea as to where this was all was heading. – He probably should have guessed it would have been something like this. _The scar was too new to be anything else._

"If it wasn't for him I wouldn't have made it. It was in the beginning. You know how it was. All that chaos and confusion. When things were going to shit and no one knew why. It was only two or three days before the air strike. – Still, no one really understood what was happening. Hell, I was still out making deliveries when it happened." The kid remarked, flinging a hand into the air like an exclamation point as he swung his legs in a particularly vicious burst of energy.

"Someone clipped the car as I took a green near the St. Loganville and Barrow intersection. Ended up T-boning me and slamming the car into an electric pole. …Whoever it was didn't stick around, but the guy behind me did. - And when I came to, thigh all ripped up, scared out of my mind... That guy was just _there_. Telling me it was going to be alright. Telling me that help was on the way, that he wasn't going to leave me. -...His hands were everywhere, drenched to the wrists as he kept pressure on the wound. - I don't know, it was surreal. But he made me believe it you know? Believe that it _was _doing to be okay." The kid continued. Shaking his head almost imperceptibly as he snuck a glance at him from underneath the shaded brim of his baseball cap.

He simply nodded in response, threading a piece of bark between his fingers as he let the kid talk.

"I was hurt pretty bad, so he ended up pulling me out. – I think he said he was pre-med.. I don't know. I'd lost a lot of blood by then, so he just started patching me up right there on the side of the road as we waited for the ambulance. The police..._anything_.. Only no one came. – Hell, I don't know if he even got through. Maybe he was just lying so I wouldn't panic.." The kid mused, staring out at the water for a long moment before he continued.

"You know how it went. Everybody had heard the rumors; all the bullshit they were talking about every night on the news. First it was civil unrest. Rioting, protestors and anarchists. Then it was a virus, a super bug. Like SARS or the H1N1, only worse. – But the CDC still hadn't released any information on how far it had spread, or how it spread… _That it wasn't safe_." Glenn bit out.

"And that's when _they_ came, the geeks, the people that were running from them. It was a fucking _stampede_ coming up from the subway. – Turns out the people that hit me probably knew. They had the right idea at any rate. – …Because we heard them before we saw them. Heard how the people were screaming… It was echoing up through the gutters and steam vents…- The sound of it..It was nothing I'd ever heard before.." The man nearly whispered, wincing at the mere memory.

"We just looked at each other. We didn't even have to say anything. We just ran. - He used his jacket for a tourniquet and dragged me to his car. I don't know how we made it out of there. They were _everywhere_. People, geeks, you could hardly tell who was dead, dying, or alive.. Everything had just gotten so fucked up. – I couldn't get a hold of my parents and he couldn't-." The kid cut himself off abruptly, dying out in mid word. And he couldn't help but stare. He hadn't heard Glenn speak a word about his folks in all the time he'd known him. - Not even fucking _once_.

_Christ.._

"..We tried to make it to the hospital but the roads were thick with them, the downtown core was a fucking war zone. We were trying to take the back roads, get to this doctors clinic I knew when one of them smashed through the window. This one geek just leapt out from behind some garbage cans as we were skidding around a corner. Hanging onto the side and digging through the glass... - Nearly got me too, but the guy swerved at the last moment, taking out the one that was trying to sink its teeth into me with a parked car." He finished. Trailing off for a short moment as his gaze turned inward. _Remembering._

"He ended up taking me to this vet clinic, I think he must have volunteered there or something because he had the keys. – Anyway he stitched me up right then and there and we spent the night inside. Listening as the whole world went to shit. The next morning, when he figured I could move without pulling the stitches, we decided to make a run for it. – I guess he knew we couldn't stay there, too vulnerable. Anyway, we'd heard about the blockade the army was putting up downtown on the radio, figured we should try for that. – _We agreed on it_." The man affirmed, throat working with a hard swallow as he pushed on.

"He got me to the car but dropped the bag. All the meds and shit. ..I don't know why he went back for it. I yelled. But he didn't listen. - _It was stupid_. It wasn't worth it… - They cut him off; I don't know _how_ he knew. But _god.._his face…" The kid bit out, lips twisting as his nails dug into his clenched palms. Almost vibrating at his sides in an effort to compose himself.

"He tossed me the keys. Yelled at me to just go.. And then they just.. - It was the first time I'd seen them do-.." The man trailed off with a disgusted shudder. Dark eyes going haunted in a way he hadn't seen since the first few weeks. Before the kid had finally grown a pair and started developing a thicker skin. Realizing, just like the rest of them, that things weren't going to be changing anytime soon.

"It just isn't fair…He didn't deserve that, he didn't-.." The kid began, voice rising in frustration as he ground his heels into the mouldering bark. Stirring up a coating of chalky soil and ripped up moss as he pitched a handful of pebbles into the fast flowing water. Fluttering down past his swinging heels to pebble across the surface of the water. - Flighty and unpredictable, like nature's own unique form of paper rain.

"A lot of people died that shouldn't have." He pointed out roughly. _Too roughly. _Breaking the silence in his usual grating fashion as the kid shuddered beside him. Running a shaky hand through his stark black hair before he mashed his hat back on with a vicious swipe.

He sighed at that. Knuckling the back of his head and hunching his shoulders inward as discomfort tightened in his throat. - He wasn't good at this kind of shit. Hell, for all he knew he was probably making it worse. But he figured he had to say_ something_.. He had to try.

_The kid deserved that much at least._

"Look, life ain't fair kid. – And it doesn't owe you shit either. Don't go mistaking that for anything different. Everything else is just bullshit and wishful thinking. – Life ain't cold or unfeelin', _it just is_. Nothin' more, nothin' less." He cut in. Figuring that since he'd opened his trap he might as well say what he'd meant to in the first place.

"You can't waste your life on what ifs and maybes. If you do, then what _he_ gave you won't mean _jack shit_. ...Either way, you've gotta live with it. - It's your choice." He finished. Appeased in spite of himself when he realized that the kid was meeting his gaze for the first time since he'd sat down. Eyes fixed on his face with a sudden intensity that probably would have unnerved him if it had been under any other circumstances.

But not today.. Because this was important. The kid had to know that all that sentimental, 'selfless hero' bullshit Rick kept pushing on them had its faults just as much as it had its merits. – You couldn't keep dwelling on the past, especially these days. There were far too many ghosts roaming around already, then to bring their _own_ into the mix.

There were some things you just had to let to of. Otherwise, a man could go mad with it. …Grief, loss, regret. Holding onto shit like that served no purpose. - It was poison, pure and simple. The kid had to let go of that man, whoever he'd been. He didn't have to forget him, but he _had _to learn how to let the memories rest. It was a fine difference, but a desperately important one.

_One that he'd been forced to learn close to a dozen times over._

He ground his boot heels into the chalky, riverside clay, reveling in the smooth slide of the muddy soil as he found his feet. And for a long moment, he simply enjoyed the simplicity of the action, stretching in place as he shouldered his cross bow and bent down to retrieve the kid's pack. - A sudden smirk stretching across his face as he took the pack in hand, pinching the straps between his thumb and forefinger as he wiggled it around teasingly. Swishing it back and forth just_ inches_ from the kid's chin as the man leveled him with his best death glare.

'_Now that's more like it.' _He thought with a grin. Huffing out a raspy, rough edged laugh as Glenn batted it away with little success. The fire slowly coming back to his eyes the longer he kept it_ just_ out of reach. Grunting out a half muffled sound of amusement when the man made to pounce for it.

But it wasn't until the kid scrambled off the log and turned the brim of his hat around to the back of his head that he realized that the man was intent on challenging him for it. – And for his part he just grinned, setting his crossbow to the side as he dug his heels into the slippery clay. Motioning the kid forward with the flat of his palm as he crouched low, inviting the kid to try.

_It appeared that the game was on.._

It was only when Glenn nearly brained himself slamming into the curve of his chest. Barely missing the jut of his shoulder as he jabbed surprisingly sharp little elbows into his gut in an attempt to snatch it, that he figured they'd both had just about enough. – Putting an end to their impromptu contest as he skilfully tripped the kid in mid leap, sending him sprawling, firmly but gently into the soft mud before he bent down and collected his crossbow.

He was wiping dirty hands on equally as dirty pant legs when the kid finally pulled himself to his feet. Already bitching up a storm about the muck that now coated him from head to toe; having to muffle an amused snort when the kid only ended up smearing the rich brown clay deeper into his pores the harder he tried to brush it off.

_Close, but no cigar kid..._

He let the kid grouch around for a bit. Slithering and flailing about in the muck for a few pointed moments before he got tired of listening to the kid bitch. Finally catching him by the shirt collar and towing him in like a prized river bass. Keeping him upright as the kid skidded around for a few worrisome seconds, a tangled mess of jumbled up limbs and fish tailing lips as the kid kept up a running commentary of complaints as he man-handled the Korean back towards solid ground.

_Well, at least he wasn't sulking anymore._

"Com'on _Asia_, we got mouths to feed." He finally purred, flicking him a half smirk as the man's face scrunched up in frustration. Figuring that was indication enough that the kid's mood was improving as he finally tossed the man his backpack. Strategically moving away from the muddy patch as the kid flashed him a look that was halfway between murderous and mischief.

_Either way he wasn't taking any chances. China man or not, the kid was a crafty little bastard._

He squinted up at the skyline as he started towards the path that led back to camp, giving the kid a minute to sort himself out as he cocked his head towards the horizon, trying to judge by sight how much daylight they had left. - Figuring they could fit in a quick supply run and even some hunting along the way if they were lucky. – It would give the kid time away from the others at any rate.

But even as he turned, he tried his best to ignore the small smile that was only just starting to flirt with the curve of the man's lips. All slow stretches and toothy grins until that hesitant little smile had sudden grown into a full blown grin. All Cheshire bright and over brimming with barely constrained laughter the second before realization hit.

_Oh fuc-_

Because before he could counter it, the kid already had a big glob of that thick Georgian clay firmly in hand. – Barely giving him enough time to consider the fact that perhaps the kid _had_ actually played baseball after all, before said projectile was suddenly streaking towards him with all the polish of a surface to air _missile_. - Catching him squarely in the back of the head and drenching cold him with the tangy stink of frothy river bile and mouldering undergrowth as the muddy mixture started dribbling down the length of his spine.

_Son. Of. A. Bitch!_

He had only about a half a second to contemplate the fact that he'd probably deserved that, before he found himself taking off after the kid. Boot treads eating up the distance as he cursed out a blue streak at the kid's retreating back. - Determined to get his as he barreled down the forest path. Gritting his teeth into the wind as the sound of the kid's teasing laughter lilted off into mocking echoes. Egging him on as Glenn's hitching whoops of childish victory made him see red.

_Cocky little bastard._

…But either way, all thoughts of revenge and retribution aside. Even _then _he couldn't help but admit that it was the memory of that small, hesitant little smile the kid had given him in the beginning that ended up staying with him. Haunting his thoughts for far longer then he cared to admit…

So maybe the next time he had the kid pinned like a butterfly to a dartboard against the side of the closest tree. The both of them flushed through with victory, hilarity, and that strange, niggling little emotion that couldn't quite be explained away as that of adrenaline or the thrill of the chase. He _might _do something _more _then simply threaten the kid within an inch of his life if he ever much as even _looked _at a mud puddle in his company _again…_

_Just maybe.._

**A/N:** - So I didn't quite manage the smut this time. Oops? – I regret nothing! A bit of woobie and ridiculous shenanigans is good for the soul! – This story is now complete. Please let me know what you think? Reviews and constructive critiquing are love!

"_Never mind. The self is the least of it. Let our scars fall in love.__" – Galway Kinnell  
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